


Off-Air

by Hellhounds_of_London



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Episode 33 spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellhounds_of_London/pseuds/Hellhounds_of_London
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick fic I wrote post- "Cassette." Spoilers for that episode! This is how I imagine the evening went after Cecil came home from the station after that broadcast. A bit fluffy, a bit serious. Carlos is the most wonderful boyfriend. I want my own Carlos...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-Air

From the kitchen, Carlos heard the door close with a bang. Abandoning the oven and the radio that was still broadcasting the sounds of jet engines played backwards over ancient monks chanting in Latin, he went into the front hall to find his boyfriend hanging up his jacket, having just arrived home from the station.  
“Cecil?”  
At the sound of his name, Cecil turned.  
“Carlos,” he said in that way that made the man who bore that name melt. Somehow, in that one word, Cecil managed to convey all the love and affection and joy towards him that Carlos himself was never able to easily express. The corners of Cecil’s mouth twitched up into a half-smile, but, terrible liar that he was, Cecil could never hide his unhappiness from Carlos.  
“I heard the show tonight.” Cecil stiffened. Undaunted, Carlos stepped all the way into the room. “Why didn’t you tell me you found that tape?”  
“I- I don’t know. I just thought it would be a fun thing to put on the air. Just to hear how different I sounded. I don’t know,” he repeated, pushing his glasses away to rub one eye. By now, Carlos was standing right in front of him, concern knitting his perfect eyebrows. “Carlos, I’m fine. Didn’t you hear the end of the show? I said I’m fine.”  
“I know what you said on-air, Cecil, but I’m asking you now, in private, without all of Night Vale hanging on your every word--”  
“Well, the Sheriff’s Secret Police are still listening.”  
“Alright, yes, the Sheriff’s Secret Police, but as private as you can get in this town. Cecil, you are very good at taking things in stride, but even you can’t just blow this off like it’s nothing.”  
Carlos put a hand on Cecil’s arm, rubbing his shoulder. At the touch, Cecil took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a sob.  
“Oh, Cecil.” Carlos took the man he loved in his arms as Cecil buried his face in Carlos’ neck and started to cry for real.  
“I’m s-sorry,” he gasped. “I’ll be f-fi-fine.”  
Carlos shushed him gently and ran his fingers through Cecil’s hair to smooth it.  
“I d-don’t know why this is upsetting me so much.”  
“It’s okay, Cecil. Stop apologizing.”  
Cecil just sobbed again in response and gripped Carlos tighter. After a minute of just standing in the middle of the hall, wrapped in each others’ arms, Cecil sniffed and looked up.  
“What’s that smell?”  
Carlos froze. “Shit.”  
They rushed into the kitchen. The potatoes, completely forgotten, had erupted into thick black smoke with odd pink streaks running through it. Opening the oven door merely triggered the fire alarm. Somewhere in the chaos, one of them started laughing, their earlier sadness temporarily forgotten, which set off the other, and soon Cecil was pressed against the frame of the window he had unlatched to let the strange smoke out, tangling his fingers in Carlos’ hair while they kissed, needily and sloppily, like neither of them had kissed anyone since they were teenagers.  
Pulling away slightly, Carlos grinned against Cecil’s jaw. “So much for dinner,” he chuckled. “I guess I got distracted.”  
“I think I can forgive you this once,” Cecil said, wrinkling his nose playfully.

 

Later, they sat on the trunk of Carlos’ car in the parking lot of the Arby’s-- Cecil’s choice.  
“It worries me, because if I completely forgot the existence of my brother, what else could I have lost?” he murmured, crumpling the paper bag his food had come in.  
“I want to know why,” Carlos replied. “Obviously something happened to you at the end of that tape. Afterwards, you have no memory of your brother, and your mother is gone. There’s got to be some correlation, so what is it? What about you making that tape connects to your memory loss?”  
“I doubt we’ll ever know that.”  
Carlos sighed. He had grown accustomed to that sort of reaction to the oddities of Night Vale, but as a scientist, the lack of curiosity still irked him.  
“Carlos,” Cecil said with the same tone of overwhelming adoration and love that he had used as soon as he had returned from the station. This time, though, Carlos detected some urgency in the voice he loved so much. He turned to face Cecil completely, still chewing a bite of roast beef. “If my family disappeared,” Cecil continued, “the people I loved most in the world… or so I imagine they were… what’s to stop something from happening to you?”  
Carlos swallowed his bite. He put a hand on top of Cecil’s, rubbing his thumb over the thin knuckles.  
“I’m not going to let anything happen to me. And even if something did come up, I will always fight tooth and nail to get back to you, Cecil.”  
“But if it did, and it was my fault--”  
“If some mysterious force were removing your loved ones because of you, they would have gotten to me already. It’s not like you’ve been all that coy about your feelings for me.”  
Cecil blushed. “I guess so,” he sighed.

 

When Cecil awoke the next morning, bedsheets entangling his bare body, he was no longer pressed close to Carlos’ side. The bicep he had used as a pillow was nowhere to be found, and the bed was already cold. He sat up, a lump already forming in his throat, and groped around on the floor for the trousers he had worn the night before. Having shed them long before reaching the bedroom the previous night, they were nowhere to be found, so he grabbed a pair of Carlos’ pajama pants, clutching them to him for a moment before throwing them on. Stumbling out of the room and into the hallway, he released a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding as he recognized the familiar scent of Carlos’ coffee and the sound of whistling, slightly off-key, to whatever strange music was on his laptop.  
He walked into the room and straight to the man resting his elbows on the counter as he scrolled through his emails. Without pausing or saying anything, he threw his arms around Carlos’ chest and nuzzled against his t-shirt.  
“Cecil,” Carlos said with surprise. “Good morning to you, too. Your coffee’s in the thermos. Half-caff with that horrible French vanilla syrup you love so much.” He twisted to fully embrace his boyfriend, kissing his forehead. “I take it you’re feeling better.”  
“Mmh. Much. Thank you for the coffee.”  
“Of course.”  
“I thought you were gone for a second when I woke up.”  
“I told you, Cecil,” Carlos said, smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
